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| Walking on Thin Ice; 5/22 - Scott and Jean | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 3 2013, 08:36 PM (379 Views) | |
| Jean Grey | Apr 25 2013, 06:50 PM Post #16 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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She hadn’t really worried that he wouldn’t want to touch her. Not really. She’d known him for this long, known him with telepathy and without it, and she knew he loved her. That he needed her like she needed him, which was in every possible way. Still, there was a tinge of relief coloring her emotions when Scott’s arms came up around her and pulled her close as she flung herself onto him. No hesitation, no reluctance, just holding her and letting her hold him and making the world make that much more sense by doing it. Jean could feel her husband’s face against her hair, all the points of contact made by that comfortingly familiar way they fitted together, each tucked into the spaces made by the other. For a few seconds, she did nothing more than cling to her husband, breathing him in and calming herself with the sense and scent and closeness that was uniquely him. Then, only when her thoughts had stilled enough to find her voice once more - small, barely above a whisper, and spoken into his shoulder, she let herself answer his words. Their hero? No, she didn’t see that happening. Not in this world. But better to be his, anyway. She’d prefer that. Scott’s arms tightened around her, and a light pressure on the top of her head, as he laid a kiss on it. "Always, Red." Another beat, another breath. "You've always been my hero. And you always will be." Jean smiled, pulling back and turning her head to lay her other cheek against his shoulder so that she was facing inward, and tightened her own grip in turn. “And you’re mine,” she told him. Then, because the idea of talking anymore about herself, about today, about this Mission, still seemed like too much right now, and a change of subject like a frank necessity, she tilted her head upward, offering an easier smile, almost (though not quite) shorn of anything but gentle amusement. “And apparently quite a few other people’s here on this world,” she teased softly, “with your own fan newsletter no less, Mr Singular Vision.” Smiling again, with a look that said that yes, she knew that wasn’t really a perfectly fair description of the newsletter that Doug and Justice had been sending to the public, but didn’t have to care if she didn’t want to right now, Jean lifted one arm from around her husband, reaching up to run a light caress along his jawline. Definitely more than time that other people appreciated what she’d known for ten years now. He made a very good hero, stupid or not. |
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| Cyclops | Apr 30 2013, 10:06 PM Post #17 |
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The real Slim Shady
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He might've been her stupid hero as a kid, but she'd been his, too. His hero, anyway, not a stupid one. Charming, certainly. Intoxicating, always. Impulsive, yes, sometimes -- passionate would probably be a more accurate term, though. Jean had always been all heart. But she'd never been stupid. And she was still his hero. Scott kissed her forehead as she turned in to face him more fully. And, paradoxically, as she tightened her grip around him, he felt even more relaxed. Not fully relaxed, of course - no hug, not even one from Jean, was generally that good - but by Scott's standards this was relatively close. “And you’re mine,” she told him. And he knew it was true, even if in over a decade he'd never precisely figured out why other than him being one lucky sonofabitch, but hearing it still made his chest swell a little. In a good way. Even though her face was still shadowed, Scott felt some of his tension ease (again only slightly), as she smiled at him. There was still worry there, but it was less, and he'd consider that some small measure of victory. For her, not for him. “And apparently quite a few other people’s here on this world,” she teased softly, “with your own fan newsletter no less, Mr Singular Vision.” He couldn't help the slight huff of surprised laughter. Just the idea of it was ludicrous seeming. The idea that he might be the kind of person that inspired that sort of thing, even tangentially was...bizarre. And, honestly, it was kind of embarrassing. The more Scott thought about it, the more he had to fight a blush and the more he had to remind himself that it wasn’t actually about him. It wasn’t even about the him that had existed here, probably. It was about an ideal that the authors had chosen to personify. Which Jean knew, if the gleam in her eye was any indication, but she was choosing to ignore. Scott let his lips tip up, even as he leaned into her gentle caress. “I’m thinking something less megalomaniacal sounding for the one we’ll start when we get home,” he mused. “Let that part of my personality come as something of a surprise for unsuspecting readers.” |
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| Jean Grey | May 5 2013, 06:20 PM Post #18 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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He looked back at her, maybe a little more relaxed. It made it easier for Jean to tell herself that she was relaxing too, building a little bubble of trivialities and amusement that they could rest in a moment before the world came calling again. Her husband, and the love of her life, and her best friend. And while Jean would have to admit if pressed that the last was a term she was prone to be generous with bestowing on multiple people, Scott was her best friend. The one who’d known her since they were both stupid messed up teenagers, who’d saved her life at least half a dozen times in the first year alone. The one who’d always been there for her. And the one who finally was apparently being appreciated like he deserved for the hero he’d always been. Her hero, and a whole lot of other people’s. A symbol for what heroes were supposed to stand for. Mr Singular Vision. And perhaps that newsletter wasn’t the fanzine she was painting it to be (okay, of course it wasn’t, as she knew very well), but it was worth the stretching of that in the service of teasing just to draw out that surprised little guff of laughter that escaped him when she did. And the way the corners of his lips twitched up - just a little, by ordinary standards, but very nearly a frank smile by Scott’s. “I’m thinking something less megalomaniacal sounding for the one we’ll start when we get home,” he mused. “Let that part of my personality come as something of a surprise for unsuspecting readers.” Her fingers having run along the line of his jaw down toward his chin, Jean took her thumb and forefinger, and pinched that lightly in a fond sort of way, grinning all the while. “Oh I think we could arrange something suitable,” she promised, eyes flashing with amusement as she let her other hand drift down to his ass. “My Fearless Heartthrob, maybe. Or Captain Tightpants.” Captain Cute-butt, too, that was an option, and while considering this, she pinched that too, just for good measure. “Of course,” she added, in tones that were almost (though not quite) perfectly serious, “first we will have to explain to all the hopeful that I am La Presidenta for Life for this yet-to-be-named fanclub, and that I will deal ruthlessly with any pretenders to that title.” And with that, she grinned up at him once more. After all, she was the one who’d got the Official Ring. It only stood to reason. |
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| Cyclops | May 8 2013, 08:42 PM Post #19 |
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The real Slim Shady
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Scott couldn't properly hide his amusement, or his embarrassment. Luckily, he was with Jean - who had seen him in every possible way, had known him since childhood, and had married him - so he didn't really have to. Besides, just the slight betrayal of emotion had been enough to make her smile, and he'd do almost everything to see that. Not just because it hit him in some sappy way (even though it did), but because if she could hold onto that - hold onto her - she could do this. If Red wanted to keep it light, though, to pretend that none of this was going to happen, he would let her. Whatever she needed to do, Scott would help her do. Though if what she needed to do was start some kind of Cyclops-based fanzine when they got home, he was going to have to insist on a slightly less megalomaniacal name. Not because he wasn't egotistical, but because Scott figured that should be a surprise. “Oh I think we could arrange something suitable,” His wife teased, grinning as she grasped his chin lightly. Scott smirked, shaking his head slightly. "I'm afraid to even ask," he told her. “My Fearless Heartthrob, maybe. Or Captain Tightpants.” She continued as her hand slipped down and around his side to his ass, and he just managed to avoid yelping a little as she pinched it. "Jeez, Jean," he mumbled, stepping against her even tighter. Yes, he was a grown-ass married man, who was in a room alone with his beautiful wife - a wife he'd seen in various states of undress for over a decade and had been sleeping with almost as long - and he was on the verge of blushing just because of some ass-pinching. Maybe she'd think his idiocy was cute. “Of course,” she added, in tones that were almost (though not quite) perfectly serious, “first we will have to explain to all the hopeful that I am La Presidenta for Life for this yet-to-be-named fanclub, and that I will deal ruthlessly with any pretenders to that title.” And with that, she grinned up at him once more. Scott snorted softly. "In a fan club of one, I think the chances of a coup are pretty small," he assured her. He trailed a hand around her waist until he could grasp her left hand in his right one and play with her rings. The rings that proved that not only had she agreed to marry him, but she had actually done it. "Besides," Scott pointed out, "you're the only one with the club rings." He brought her hand up and kissed them carefully. He smiled. "But if you need back-up, I'm sure Rachel will act as your bodyguard." |
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| Jean Grey | May 16 2013, 10:18 PM Post #20 |
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Can kill you with her brain.
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Silly boy. Yes, she’d grown up with him for a decade, and sometimes it wasn’t an obvious thing to see the awkward, uncomfortable skinny teenaged boy she’d first fallen in love with in the man he’d become. But then sometimes - like now, as he was tensing, practically jumping out of his skin (at least by his standards) at just the teensiest of butt pinches between newly weds - it was impossible not to still see it. "Jeez, Jean," he mumbled, stepping against her even tighter. Jean said nothing to this, just grinned a little more and let him gather her up closer in the tight embrace. For the moment, there was a sense that nothing could really impinge on their little moment, and while that probably wasn’t true, she’d like to hold onto it a little longer. Though not without indulging in some more mild flights of teasing fancy. If there was going to be a proper Captain Tightpants fanclub and newsletter back home, it would have to be made perfectly clear to everyone who got to be club President. For Life. And she would be ruthless in dealing with any challengers, of course. It only stood to reason. Somehow, the serious nature of this threat seemed lost on her husband, who merely snorted. Possibly because it hadn’t been serious at all, in any way, and she’d been grinning all the way through, but still. Also very silly of him. "In a fan club of one, I think the chances of a coup are pretty small," he assured her. Had he heard the circulation numbers for Singular Vision? Because if he could pull that kind of support base for a newsletter he was the headliner for, in a world where there had been a concerted effort to link him to the terrible destruction his wife had caused, you had to imagine that he’d be able to do a lot better back home. Still, Jean merely rolled her eyes to this particular piece of ridiculousness, deciding that the pointless argument that would no doubt ensue if she ventured to point out that such modesty was not at all warranted wouldn’t be worth the effort. Meanwhile, though, her husband had apparently been thinking along some of the same lines as she had, about this fanclub, because he’d managed to get hold of her left hand, toying with her wedding ring and the BDR. "Besides," [he] pointed out, "you're the only one with the club rings." To which end, he kissed them deliberately, with the kind of ceremony that might have been associated with someone doing homage to the Pope, except a whole lot more sensual. Maybe a porn movie about the Pope... and yes, oh god, her brain was a place full of thoughts that should never see the light of day. Definitely a problem. "But if you need back-up, I'm sure Rachel will act as your bodyguard," he added. Jean grinned back at him, and gently pulled her left hand out of his grip. “Okay, enough doing homage to the Ring of Power, Smeagol,” she said with a smile, using that hand to gently stroke down the line of his jaw again. “You married the girl, not the jewelry.” And the girl would prefer he saved some of those tantalising kisses he was teasing her with for her, not the cold bands of metal that were attached to her fingers. “But yes,” she continued, still smiling lightly, “Rachel would be all into that. Beware the Attack Phoe-” The word died on her tongue, half uttered. For a second, maybe two, Jean simply clung to her husband, turning her head into his shoulder and trying to collect herself. After that moment, though, she found her voice, saying, “Well, I almost managed to make a joke about it. I guess that’s progress.” Though for all the attempt at making light of it, she wasn’t quite ready yet to stop clinging tightly to him. |
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3:33 AM Jul 11